Want Me (14 page)

It was ten o’clock and she needed to get ready for bed. For Nate. As exciting as the interview was, as pressing as the needs of the printing plant were, she’d found herself thinking about Bali or Africa or wherever Nate was going to be. Now that she knew her parents were going to take some time off, she felt less guilty about wanting some for herself.

For ten minutes this afternoon, she’d looked at pictures of Bali. The internet was a wonderful thing, bringing the world to her in her little office. But for once she wanted to go to the world. Despite her best intentions she hadn’t been able to stop her traitorous practical mind from taking her to the end of the line. She wished she hadn’t seen that picture of him in Sumatra. Before, she’d had vague images in her head about where he lived and worked. Now she couldn’t pretend he was anything but temporary, and rightly so.

He was a great man doing great work. A real-life hero. Even in her daydreams she couldn’t compete with that. No wonder he thought of her in terms of doing bigger things, like running for city council. Because that’s where he lived, in a world where he had a direct impact on the lives of hundreds if not thousands. She had her family and forty-seven employees to take care of. No contest.

She went down the hall to the bathroom, took off her robe and pinned up her hair before she stepped under the shower. The heat and pressure of the water felt incredible, and for a long while she dipped her head, closed her eyes and let her body relax. Tensions had been so high at the office lately that she felt as if it were more of a war zone than a business.

Every effort she made toward easing the stress—bringing doughnuts, making fresh pots of coffee whenever she was there, saying hello, attempting to talk the way they all used to—was met with indifference if she were lucky, barely suppressed antagonism when she wasn’t.

Daphne had literally run away from her yesterday. Run, as if to look at Shannon was too painful. Daphne was a few years older than Shannon, and she, along with Melissa, had been really good friends before the cutbacks. They’d often had lunch together, talked about guys and dating and clothes. Before the economy tanked and the layoffs started, she’d invited them to the lunch exchange. Daphne had seemed interested. Now Shannon was the bad guy, the one responsible for everything that had gone wrong at the plant, including the shrinking client base. Shannon had stopped trying to fix what was broken relationship-wise, but she hadn’t given up hope that an influx of customers, the type of big clients they used to have, would change everything.

The interview wasn’t a guarantee of new business, neither was the Easter egg hunt or the banners or the cold calls or the personal meetings. But there was a chance that it could turn into something major. She was due, dammit, and yes, she understood that was magical thinking. Nevertheless, she would continue to hold on to good thoughts. Positive energy and action combined with a quality product and a track record to be proud of would prove that this was only a temporary downswing. Fitzgerald & Sons had too much history to lose now. She wouldn’t let that happen, not under her watch.

She put bodywash on her sponge, her senses filling with lilac and spice, and let all her troubling thoughts run down the drain. In a very short time she would open her door and her bed to the man she wanted more than anything else in the world.

For tonight, she was the luckiest person ever. She couldn’t wait until his arms were around her, until she could run her hands down his strong back, feel his breath on her neck, taste him and hear him gasp out her name.

Spurred on by excitement and the ache between her thighs, she rinsed quickly, dried off, brushed her teeth and grinned as she hurried back to her bedroom

She turned on the bedside light, but as a surprise, she’d bought a beautiful pink scarf that she draped over the shade. The room looked exotic and almost as sexy as she felt crawling naked between the sheets.

When he tapped on her door, she tugged down the top sheet so the first thing he saw was her hair spread out on the pillow and her very erect bared nipples. So much for skipping the sexy times.

14

N
ATE
HAD
GONE
BACK
TO
HIS
room at two that morning, still careful not to upset the applecart, especially today. He’d set his alarm for 5:45 a.m., and after his shower, he’d been glad of it.

Shannon would be down at six-thirty and he wanted her to have more than coffee for breakfast. He’d put on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt and prepared to make the best damn pancakes in all of New York.

The light was already on in the kitchen, which meant Shannon hadn’t slept well. He didn’t care that his surprise was screwed up as much as the fact that she was starting the day out nervous. Only it wasn’t Shannon in the kitchen, but Mrs. Fitz.

“What are you doing up so early, boyo?”

He walked in to the scent of freshly brewed coffee and butter melting on a grill pan. “I came to make pancakes for the TV star.”

Mrs. Fitz grinned. “That was very nice of you.”

“And you,” he said, as he got his mug down from the cupboard.

“She’s so excited. She’d tried to get every station in New York to advertise the fundraiser, and no one’s ever taken notice. It’s a fine thing, her efforts paying off so well.”

“Yeah,” he said. “She works hard for the church. For everything she loves.”

Mrs. Fitz put a ladle’s worth of batter on the griddle, bringing vanilla and cinnamon into the delicious mix of aromas. “I know what Danny’s asked you to do.”

He stirred his coffee, then went to the table. “I wasn’t sure.”

“We’re in a terrible position,” she said. “We’ve done it to ourselves, and now we’re asking you to fix it. Shameful. I’d speak to her myself if I had the courage God gave a ten-year-old. She’s my little girl, and this situation is breaking my heart.”

“I understand,” Nate said. “But she’s got to know the truth. It’ll work out, I’m sure of it, but it’s not going to be easy for any of you. I can’t say I’m glad to help, but I’m the right person for the job.”

Mrs. Fitz, still in bathrobe and slippers, had poured out four cakes, and she was watching them for the first of the bubbles. Syrup, the real kind, was at the ready, and there were four place settings on the table. “It’s kind of you, Nate. We’ve all noticed how you two are thick as thieves. That’s good. That’s wonderful. You’re family, and she can use the company. She works too hard, that one. I hope…”

“What?”

She flipped all four pancakes, then glanced at him before facing the stove once more. “I hope she lands on her feet. That’s what frightens me the most. She’s so talented and bright, but it never seemed to matter how often we told her she could do anything at all, chase any dream, she was convinced that the business came first. That we all lived and died for the bloody printing plant. I’m grateful for it, God knows, it’s kept us in food and clothing and our home for all these years, but if I never set foot in that place again, it’ll be too soon.

“Mr. Fitz is deaf in one ear, did you know that? And the hearing in the other ear isn’t good. He’s tired, and he’s ready for a full retirement without the worry. We all are. Shannon deserves her own life, cut off from any obligations, real or imagined. I want her to be happy, Nathan. I want her to be free.”

He stared at his coffee, wishing he could skip the painful part, the part where Shannon would be crushed by the betrayal. But he couldn’t. “You’ll need to tell her that in a while,” he said. “You’ll need to say it many times, I think. She won’t believe it at first. She’ll just be angry. Worse, she’ll feel like a fool.”

Mrs. Fitz filled his plate and brought it over to the table. After setting it down, she placed her hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry to bring you into this,” she said. “But we’re all grateful for you being there to help us through it.”

He covered her hand with his. “We’re family,” he said. “I love you guys.”

“Shannon’ll be down in a minute. Eat up. You’re far too thin.”

Today was going to be wonderful for Shannon. She deserved the spotlight, the attention. She deserved the best he had to offer.

* * *

T
HE
DAY
WENT
BY
IN
FITS
and starts. Shannon’s butterflies would swoop around and she’d fixate on the potential for failure, then some bit of work would catch her notice. Rinse. Repeat. It was only two o’clock. She was due at the studio at eight. She’d decided to eat her lunch at midafternoon, because she didn’t want to have a blood-sugar crash, but she also had to account for the nerves. She’d brought soup, crusty bread, a banana.

Now she wanted chai tea, which they had only in the big break room. She left the quiet of her office, putting in her earplugs as she walked. Across the floor, she saw Melissa, Greg and Patrice huddled around someone in a chair. Shannon raced over to find out what was going on.

There were accidents from time to time; it was a big plant with lots of machinery, but it had been a while since anyone had been injured. Brady ran a tight ship, and there were frequent enough breaks so that no one would get too drowsy at the controls. Oh, God, she could see now that it was Daphne, and she had her face buried in her hands, shaking, crying. What the hell?

Patrice saw Shannon first and the expression on her face, such incredible contempt, made her flush. It was awful being the object of scorn, of mistrust. She was hated and no amount of explanations seemed to change anyone’s mind.

Greg and Melissa were staring at her now, and they backed away from Daphne, who continued to weep. Shannon crouched in front of Daphne’s chair, touched her knee. Daphne glanced up, her mouth opened as if gasping, and she rose so swiftly she almost knocked Shannon on her ass.

Daphne darted past her coworkers, heading toward the back of the shop, Shannon right on her tail. There was no way she could ignore this or even send Brady to investigate. She didn’t know if Daphne had been injured or if something else was tearing her apart.

Daphne rushed into the ladies’ room. By the time Shannon went inside, her ex-friend was shutting a cubicle door behind her. Shannon’s right hand pressed back, and she yanked out her earplugs with her left. “Daphne, wait.”

“Go away.”

“I can’t. Please. Tell me if you’re hurt.”

“No. I’m fine. Just go away.”

“You’re not fine,” Shannon said. “I hate this. Please, let’s just talk. I know it’s been rocky between us, but—”

The pressure on Daphne’s side of the door vanished, and Shannon stumbled forward, barely able to stop herself before she plowed into Daphne. Straightening quickly, Shannon took several steps back.

Daphne didn’t seem to have noticed either the stumbling or Shannon’s attempt to give her some breathing room. “Rocky?” she repeated, as if Shannon had spit the word at her. “Things have been rocky? Do you know what the insurance company wants to charge for catastrophic illness coverage? More than my monthly paycheck, that’s what. Because I was born with diabetes. I’ve stopped sleeping, I’m going to lose my apartment, and then what? All I know how to do is work the printing machines, and there are no jobs out there. None.”

She took a step toward Shannon, her face blotchy and her eyes red. She pointed her finger like a weapon as she shouted, “Why don’t you just do it already. You think we’re stupid? That we don’t know?”

“Do what? Know what?”

Daphne’s face twisted into such an ugly mask it made Shannon feel sick. “Yeah, you do think we’re idiots. Working twice as hard for less money. Doing the job of three and four people. No insurance, and your father is all about planning his retirement so he can go sit on a beach somewhere and have fancy drinks. Brady’s got a drawer full of brochures about new and better places to work. We know that guy that came by last week with your dad was a buyer. You all are going to walk away millionaires, and we’ll be shit out of luck without a nickel.”

“What are you talking about?” Shannon had to grip the sink behind her. The tirade was insane, it made no sense. “My father’s not retiring. We’re not trying to sell anything. I’m doing everything in the world I can to bring us more clients. Why do you think I’ve been working so hard on this Easter project? I’m trolling for customers. I spend half my day making cold calls. Would I do that if we were trying to sell the plant?”

Daphne wiped her nose with a tissue, then crossed her arms defensively. “Fine. Great. And I was feeling all guilty, but now I— You’ll just keep feeding us this bullshit until we’re all so desperate, we quit, and you won’t have to pay severance.”

“What? No. That’s not true.”

Daphne looked over Shannon’s shoulder, and Shannon followed her gaze. The entrance to the ladies’ room was filled with the other employees, and it was clear they hadn’t believed a word she said.

“I’ve never lied to you.” Shannon stood up straight, rallied her dignity. “It’s been a struggle for everyone. All I’ve been working toward is keeping the plant going. Getting back on our feet so we can rehire a full crew. The decision to cut the insurance came down to the wire. It was that, or close the doors for good. You know that. I told you that. I give you my word, we’re not trying to sell the building. Why would we? It’s been in our family for generations.”

Daphne laughed. “You know what? I don’t feel so good. I think I’ll take a paid sick day.” She put her hand in front of her mouth. “Oh, wait. Those were cut down to two days every six months. I don’t have any left.”

Shannon opened her mouth to keep trying, but Daphne shut the cubicle door. The staff didn’t leave, but they did part to let her through. It was torturous, walking that gauntlet of mistrust and anger. She wasn’t everyone’s favorite person, but she’d never been hated before. Not even for things that she had done wrong.

Why did they all think she was lying? The confrontation had been a nightmare, her worst fears shouted in her face.

It had to be terrifying to have a chronic illness and not have insurance. Scary to have no real job security. But that was how it was now, not just at Fitzgerald & Sons. At least they had jobs. The plant had never missed a single payroll, not once. Shannon knew other companies were eliminating sick pay altogether.

She went back to her office, staring straight ahead. She wanted to leave, to find Nate, to fall into his arms and have him tell her that things couldn’t have gotten this messed up.

She locked her door, closed the blinds. Tears threatened, but she wouldn’t give in, not today. Not when she was busting her ass to keep all the employees. Daphne wasn’t the only one who wasn’t sleeping.

Her screensaver mocked her with pictures of happier times in the plant. Birthday parties, potlucks, costumes on Halloween. This had always been a great place to work, and it could be again. If only the staff were willing to have a little faith. But they weren’t. After all these years, all the effort and the stress. They obviously hadn’t bothered to think about the family’s side of the equation.

She sniffed, opened her purse to get out her face powder, but took out Nate’s trading card instead. She smiled at him and at the fact that she still carried his card around with her. She thought of calling, but he was in meetings until this evening when he was going to watch her interview along with half the neighborhood at Molly’s.

That was the good side of living someplace forever. With the obvious exception of their employees, the Fitzgeralds meant something in Gramercy. They were honorable people. Her family had taught her to tell the truth, to value a job well done, to treat people with respect.

Time to focus again on Nate and let his picture bring her blood pressure down. It was coming on three o’clock. She had work to do, as always. Cold calls, mostly, but some filing, emails to answer. There was very little chance those things would be accomplished if she didn’t lift herself out of this funk. So she’d take her lunch, a whole damn hour, and she’d go for a walk. Walking always helped. Then she’d come back to the office, and she’d do her job.

Tonight she’d put on her favorite outfit, brush her hair, freshen her lipstick and she’d smile when she got on camera. She’d talk about the fun they would have on Easter Sunday after mass. How each donation would help people who were truly in need. She refused to be in a bad mood when she had no power to change the outcome. She was doing her best. Working as hard as she knew how.

She was not a failure, and she wasn’t going to act like one.

* * *

T
HE
BUILDING
WAS
STEEL
AND
glass, and it didn’t look like a television studio lived inside, but she’d never been to one before, so that made little sense. It had taken Shannon over an hour on the subway to arrive at the studio in Yonkers. She’d used the time to gear herself up, to let the earlier part of the day go as she focused not on the opportunity to promote Fitzgerald & Sons, but on the altruistic purpose of the Easter egg hunt itself.

Inside she was given a badge, and an escort, a harried young woman named Felicity, took her into a tiny little makeup area where someone who barely acknowledged Shannon powdered her face within an inch of its life. Felicity then took her to the green room, which wasn’t green and didn’t smell nice, either. The monitor that would have let her watch the broadcast was down, needing to be replaced, so Felicity pointed out a stack of old magazines. Shannon would be the only in-studio guest for the evening.